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“I can’t.”
“You can’t tell me anything?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow in challenge. “Or is it just that you don’t want to tell me because you don’t want me to know?”
“It’s because you don’t want to know. Trust me.”
“If you think I’m going to run out that door because of something you tell me, you’re wrong,” she said. “If you can’t tell me, I understand, but don’t hide things from me just because you believe it’s better if I don’t know them.”
“No good can come from you knowing,” he said. “You’ll look at me and you won’t see me anymore. You’ll see them. You’ll see the people I’ve hurt and the things I’ve done, so excuse me if I sorta fucking like you seeing just me.”
She opened her mouth to respond but hesitated briefly, leaning her elbows on the table and moving closer to Carmine. “Have you had to, uh . . . ?”
“Kill?” he asked, finishing her question. She glanced around anxiously to make sure no one was listening before nodding. He could see the curiosity in her eyes, but he could also see the apprehension. That was something he never wanted from her. “Would it make a difference?”
“No,” she said. “If you did, I know it’s because you had to.”
“Then why are you asking?”
“I just want to know.”
“No.”
She looked at Carmine cautiously. “You aren’t going to tell me?”
He sighed. “That’s the answer, Haven. No.”
“Oh.” She was quiet for a moment, appearing deep in thought. “Is that what you see when you look in the mirror? The people you’ve hurt?”
“It’s hard to see the good when there’s so much damn bad.”
“I see the good.” She smiled softly as she gazed at Carmine. “It might help you to talk to someone, though. You shouldn’t keep it all bottled in.”
“I’m still not going to tell you that shit,” he replied, shaking his head.
“I know,” she said. “I meant, like, a professional.”
His brow furrowed. “Are you suggesting I go to a shrink?”
She shrugged. “Why not? I know there are some things you can’t tell them, but that doesn’t mean they can’t help at all. I saw a movie where a mobster guy went to a psychiatrist, and so did that other one in that TV show. He was the boss, too.”
Carmine smirked when it struck him what she had said. He tried to contain his amusement, but his laughter escaped when a blush overtook Haven’s face. “Aw, don’t be embarrassed,” he said, reaching across the table and cupping her cheek. It was warm against his palm and she leaned into his touch, smiling sheepishly. “It’s sweet of you to worry, but this isn’t like TV, tesoro. We can’t do that shit in real life.”
He stroked her cheek softly as she whispered, “I wish you could.”
“Me, too.”
* * *
The sun had set by the time they left the coffee shop, darkness surrounding everything. He held her hand as they strolled through the parking lot toward the car, the atmosphere between them light once again. It felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest, his world just a tad brighter since she had walked back into it.
The carefree feeling didn’t last, though—not that he had actually expected it to. They made it back to his house and he asked if she wanted to watch a movie, but they barely made it through the opening credits before his phone rang.
He pulled it out hesitantly, tensing. Corrado. “Sir?”
“Be in front of my house in five minutes.”
“Yes, sir,” he grumbled, but responding was pointless because Corrado had already hung up. He slipped the phone back in his pocket and looked at Haven, running his hand through his hair anxiously.
“You have to go,” she said quietly, a tinge of sadness in her voice, but she forced a smile. “I understand.”
